


Cloying

by deathwailart



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Stolen Moments, ruling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:25:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1969011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She loathes these functions, essential as they are but Sebastian always makes them bearable.</p>
<p>Written for the 30 day drabble challenge: cloying</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cloying

"Maker spare me."  
  
You attract more flies with honey than vinegar and even more with bullshit but Ríoghnach is tired of the grovelling and simpering, something she's never had time for but as Viscountess and princess consort it's reached a level she didn't think existed until now.  
  
"Problems?" Sebastian is smiling – they've made their peace now, there's no longer an ugly friction between them now that Kirkwall lies quiet and they've become who they were meant to be. He still wears his gleaming armour and she so often the gleaming armour of the Champion because this is how you play the game. A united front to show the world. Armoured in this world and shielded by the Maker's hand. "Careful, if you stare too long you'll only fuel the rumours."  
  
"And what rumours," she reaches out, cups his cheek in one hand and then leans in to accept a kiss, tasting Starkhaven's finest malt on his tongue, "would those be dearest?"  
  
"That those who displease you find themselves turned to stone. I've heard some versions where they're still aware of time passing but remain as they are, unable to move or scream, like a dwarven golem lacking a control rod." He's teasing, a peaceful little smile she never thought she'd see on his face and she gives him a shove, allowing him to catch her and spin her around so her back is to his chest, one of his arms around her waist. Luckily for him she's not in armour tonight but a long gown made of red silk, showing off her broad shoulders, the muscles in her arms because everyone knows and she is proud of what she is, a soldier wielding a blade almost as large as she is, a black panel in the middle, richly embroidered with Andraste's likeness in gold.  
  
"I take it Varric is still spinning his terrible yarns then." She leans back more comfortably and curls a hand around his wrist with a rare smile in that she means it. She can smile on demand, to settle or unsettle someone as the case may be but a very small number of people have seen her real smile and Maker she wishes Carver and mother were here to see this.  
  
"I doubt he'd be so charitable," Sebastian replies and she can't help but laugh, turning enough to hide her head against his neck.  
  
To the world gathered below, eating fancy canapés, laughing and boasting, getting drunk on Tevinter wine, they must look like any happy couple enjoying a moment alone. It's planned. It's always planned. Hosting these functions to be a man and woman of the people, approachable leaders who know how to have a good time and provide polite entertainment that only the very best are invited to then showing that yes, look how human they are, enjoying one another's company before the world intrudes. But always above. Always near the throne when in Kirkwall. Gleaming armour reflecting their positions. Sebastian is the one she chose when she could have had anyone – it's not arrogant, it's the truth, even at her worst she is a refugee who came from nothing and changed Kirkwall for the better – and they have all the Free Marches at their feet.  
  
"We should go mingle," she says regretfully because in truth she's exhausted and she wants him to take her to bed, to strip him out of his armour, to have his clever archer's fingers pluck at the lacing of her gown, to have it be just them, no acting, no positions, nothing but them.  
  
"Make them earn it," he murmurs, lips against her ear and she agrees with a kiss.


End file.
